XI - I'm a parent get me outta here

Visiting temples at Ranthambore Fort in the Jungle

Is India a suitable place to bring your children? Partly, that depends on how you felt about growing up when you did (presuming it was before 1990). This is a land untouched by the fearful culture of safeguarding we experience today and by any sense of health and safety. I’ve already spoken of how our boys are the centre of a constant media circus, with continually requests for photographs now strongly rebuffed as Apollo yells at strangers “I hate you!” To be fair it’s an effective way of dealing with unwanted attention. He takes a similar line on the many who try to pinch his chubby little cheeks. The contrast with the current safeguarding climate in the UK is like entering a new world from underwater. I just cannot imagine touching a child that isn’t my own - here a stranger will happily cruise by and swing your child up into their arms - and I wouldn’t even dream of asking if I could take a photograph. There is much to appreciate in how much better we protect everyone and I can tell you that my children really don’t appreciate the free-for-all here, but a bit like if you go to a country where people still smoke in bars, you can’t help but take a deep breath and think “ah, I remember this!” And on a serious note, for all the many, many necessary goods a culture of safeguarding has brought, it has carried with it a culture of anxiety, often a guilty-until-proven-innocent leaning, and a huge weight to be carried by all those who work with children, vulnerable adults, and 1-1 settings.

Then there’s health and safety. The first place to point out is the “horror parks”. In Jodhpur there was a little park with a slide that was practically vertical. My children are quite robust but watching them go down it reminded me of paratroopers landing after parachuting. Today, I was in a large park where for some reason the slides had sheets of sharp rusty metal hanging off them. There were also broken and missing slats on the death-slide on the way down. Swings hung like dead men from single chains. Imagine, hanging out in this horror-park while your wife is buying train tickets, and your two children want to run off in different directions. Then add to this that every time you stop middle-aged men run up to your children to take selfies. It’s not a comfortable experience.

Death slide at Sawai Modhopur

Then there’s food. Happily, pancakes are frequently available for breakfast. The children will eat rice and yoghurt but anything with even a little spice produces outrage. This is pretty tiresome. Our children have always been open-minded about food but this is quite testing for them, and slightly embarrassing for that middle-class anxiety that finds it mortifying if you fail to fit in with the culture you’re visiting. However, even with these limitations further difficulties arise. People here love children (see above) and delight in giving them treats. At afternoon tea I asked the man for two biscuits for Apollo (aged 3.5). Apollo, of course demanded four. The man gave him four while I quietly pulled my hair out. The restaurant staff love giving them cakes, sometimes while you’re sitting waiting for a meal to arrive. The children have picked up on this generous spirit and now both regularly go into the kitchen (see health and safety above) and are given sweets, cakes, anything they like really. Maintaining meal-times has proved impossible. In a similar spirit they have befriended a woman whose main employment is to cook chapatis. She is clearly delighted with Apollo, speaking gently in Hindi to him. He has made up his own quasi-Hindi language to speak with her while he almost constantly guzzles chapatis with her, squawking “chapati! chapati!”

Trash on the street in Jodhpur

Steep drops without barriers, water without supervision or warning, no fire controls whatsoever; no seatbelts that work in the rear, not worn in the front, and no childseats; our driver today happily sat Apollo in the front seat unbelted as he guessed he’d make the best company. And the traffic – appearing from anywhere, driving anywhere, no pavements, nor right of way except by force and initiative; then there’s the hygiene, huge piles of trash on street corners, avoiding drinking tap water, the many animals everywhere – stray dogs, cows, bison, monkeys, the occasional camel. On trains the doors are not locked when the train is moving and are frequently left open. It’s not stress-free parenting here. 

Children visiting snakes Carlos & Juliet at Jaipur

And yet, we were told today that Apollo is a celebrity widely discussed in the area, and the visible affection and care people have for children and especially ours is moving. When I was in America working for the army I had the strange cultural inversion where the combination of military and religion made me cool – someone you’d buy a beer for, whereas here I was a pariah – the British army are rarely publicly in uniform and I’ve had not a few incidents of heckling as a priest about town. Similarly, with two little boys in the UK you mostly get sympathetic looks which frequently turn to annoyance at their "exuberance". In India (though not always for the best reasons) the parent of boys is the lottery winner and the little tigers can do no wrong. 

Rickshaws obeying their own rules in Jodhpur

The boys have made great friends in all manner of circumstances – in hotels, on trains, in parks, and this has helped build confidence, even if part of their success is the colour of their skin. They have become more wary of adults, but perhaps that’s no bad thing and there are frequently Indians who get beyond the shallow exploitation to earn their trust and affection. So until something goes really wrong (and with our boys there are daily misshaps!) I’m all for children in India learning how to navigate risks and crowds and seeing a little more of the world and its ambivalences that in leafy South-West London.

Puck on the steps of a Jain temple at the fort in Jaisalmer